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I
bought Dale's book on coach Selfe for my brother-in-law (James Moore,
who played defensive back with me for three years at Emory) as a
Christmas present. However, I started reading it and could not put
it down--I guess I will have to go by him another copy. The personal
stories and commentary of the impact coach Selfe had on the lives
of so many in the Emory family were both powerful and understandable.
I had the privilege of playing football for Emory & Henry from 1987-1991 and have fond memories of sharing the field with many of those players mentioned in Dale's book. Besides the four-year letterman's watch and the aches and pains I still feel daily from my years of playing football, I was given a special Christmas gift from my father the year after I graduated. My Dad, struggling to find a suitable present for me that Christmas, made the drive to the Emory campus and was given my old helmet by Coach Selfe. He made this into a framed "trophy"--with a blue and gold velvet canvas background and the years I played inscribed on a bronze plaque. Coach Selfe took the time to help my father make my Christmas memorable and I cherish this trophy more than any other present my father ever gave me. It is still the only artifact I have hanging in my house that ties me to my football days. Thank you #44 for taking the time to remind those who played, were taught, or simply knew coach Selfe of what he expects from us as we continue his "butterfly" effect. Since reading the book, I have become conscious of how my actions may help others and strive to model myself in his light. Rick Carroll
My 8th grade year at R.B. Worthy High School in Saltville, VA I was introduced to Coach Selfe. Coach had been at E&H just prior to coming to R.B.Worthy. I was fortunate enough to be in his "homeroom" that year. Those 15 minutes each morning that year honestly came to be the most special of my high school years. Coach showed such an interest in every student, a genuine interest that a kid at that age could tell if it were being "faked". There was not one single cell of Fred Selfe that was fake. Coach left R.B.Worthy at the end of the year to return home to Emory. Whenever I would go to Emory, in the years between when he left R.B. Worthy and I became a student at E&H, and Coach saw me he would make a point of coming up and "checking on me" to make sure I was doing OK. If I was not at the game and he saw my Dad, Dad would come in and say Coach was "checking up on me". Coach Selfe continued this every day I attended E&H and the years after I graduated until he his transition to Heaven. Coach was/is a "constant" in my life that I will never forget. After Coach's funeral I was speaking with Coach J concerning Coach Selfe. Coach J said he wanted me to live my life as Coach Selfe would live it. I try everyday to uphold Coach Selfe's values and I will admit that, compared to him, I fail miserably. David
Rhea Dear Coach Selfe, Sometimes
people come into your life and you know right away they were meant
to be there; to serve some sort of purpose. Teach you a lesson or
help figure out who you are or want to become. You never know who
these people may be but when you lock eyes with them you know that
very moment that they will affect your life in some profound way.
Danny Carter I've
struggled to come up with the "best" Coach Selfe story-
there are so many. I want to share my favorite attribute of coach
first if I can. I don't have a word for it, maybe you do. He made
everyone around him better because we all wanted to please him by
doing the right thing. That in itself is great, but he did all that
without ever saying, "Here is how to do the right thing now
you go do it". He did it by doing the right thing himself and
believing in every one of us he ever met. By believing in us, he
was giving us permission to be our best, COACH SELFE believes we
can be great, so WE believe we can be great. Not just in football
or some other sport, but way more importantly, in our lives and
how we contribute to society.
I went to Emory for 5 years and two summer schools. Changed majors three times. During my third year I went to my advisor and told him I wanted to teach economics in high school. This was a big step for me, I had no confidence in myself, except on the football field. Well, the advisor literally laughed at me for being - I don't know - stupid or naive or something. He said we didn't even have such a program and so on. I literally got up and ran from his office, absolutely crushed. I went back to my dorm room and cried and couldn't catch my breath. I called coach Selfe, still crying. He told me to come on down to the King Center. We went for a ride in his little pickup, he bought me a hot dog from that little place in Glade Springs, we rode around, but most of all, he listened to me, he was there for me, he cared about me. After I had calmed down we went to his office and he asked me, "What is it that you want to do more than anything else?" I told him I had always wanted to teach P.E. and coach football, but I didn't pursue that because I was not encouraged by my family to do that and so on. He sent me back to my room and told me to come back at a certain time the next day, and assured me things would work out. I came back the next day, Coach Selfe had planned my next two years (and another summer school) AND become my advisor—he was going to help me become the P.E. teacher I wanted to be. Mostly an underachieving student up to that point, I made the dean's list every semester except one after that day, I finished as the top senior in the P.E. department my last year, got an award and everything. Now, here's the thing. I wanted to please him so badly that he got me to work at my "maximum ability," which led to whatever success I had. What I didn't realize at the time was, he was just "putting me in position to have a positive outcome" as he liked to say. I looked at it as I'm pleasing coach. He looked at it as look at what that boy can do when someone believes in him. Along the way, I began to believe in myself as much as he believed in me. I love coach Selfe, I see evidence of his influence on me all the time. The way I approach coaching, the way I treat other people, I have been told I am an encourager and I know that is because of his influence on my life. I saw him the summer before his last year of life, he knew he was sick and didn't tell me. He had told me he was not going to be coaching the upcoming season. I had my two oldest boys with me (my third son was born two weeks before coach died) and he played with them and we visited. Before we left, he put his old beat up coach’s hat on me, the kind of hat that only looks good on coach Selfe, and told me he wanted me to have it. So, not only do I have the lessons he taught me and the great memories we shared, but I guess he wanted me to have something tangible as well. He didn't have to do that, but God knows how grateful I am that he did. Pat
Walker I
was the director of the Kelly Library from 1974 to 1984. For a number
of years we lived on "Rabbit Row." Our house was located
between Terry & Nancy Griffin's house and Fred & Becky Selfe's
house. The Selfes shared a driveway with us and our porches faced
each other. My daughters Meg and Mary really liked their "Uncle
Fred" because he always seemed to have time for them, and they
always kept an eye open for whatever he was doing.
Fred & Becky had a Volkswagen Beetle, and Fred did his own maintenance and took pretty good care of that car. On a summer day my wife and the children were sitting on the porch, when my oldest daughter looked over to see Fred working on the Beetle. Meg asked what was Uncle Fred doing. Cathy looked over to see that Fred, who was one of the strongest men I have ever met, wasn't actually working on the car; but he was lifting the rear end of the car up by the bumper to shift it over just a little bit for some reason. Cathy simply replied, "Meg, your Uncle Fred is moving his car" as if it was an everyday feat. LeRoy Strohl lstrohl@umw.edu Director of Libraries University of Mary Washington 1801 College Avenue Fredericksburg, VA 22401-4664 v.540.654.1147 / fx 540.654.1067 Lat: N 38° 18' 29.5" Long: W 77° 28' 60.1" In
the spring of 1982, I was a member of the Emory and Henry baseball
team. On a typical windy March day, Emory and Henry was playing
Bridgewater College in a double header. I was the second baseman
and when a ball was hit between second base and right field, a collision
occurred between the right fielder and me. As I lay on the field,
the first person to arrive to aid me was Coach Selfe. Coach Selfe,
a mountain of a man to me, immediately knew my injury was serious.
He summoned for Mr. Dave Thomas to bring his truck to the baseball
field. At the time, I weighted about 194 pounds; however, Coach
Selfe scooped me up like I was a small child and laid me in his
truck.
Dave Thomas drove me to the hospital in Abingdon where I remained for the next eight days following surgery on my knee. Showing how much he cared about his players, who do you think was the first person to greet me in the recovery room after my surgery? Yes! Coach Selfe! During the eight days that I spent in the hospital, Coach Selfe took time away from his teaching, coaching, and family to visit me each day offering words of encouragement. I knew then he was truly someone special. As a high school football coach and administrator, there are countless lessons Coach Selfe instilled in me that I apply to my life on a daily basis. For example, he taught me to win and lose with dignity, to be fair and honest to my players and students, to respect my opponents, to gain and give respect to my players, and most importantly, to respect myself as an educator. In the fall of 1982, I was a starting running back on the Emory and Henry football team. We traveled to Hampton, Virginia to take on Hampton University, a powerful Division II school. The one thing that I remember vividly that day was not so much the score, but those dreaded words from Coach Selfe, “Gosh Dandy! Bullfrog!” We were trying to score when—as I was being tackled—I had the bright idea to lateral the ball to one of my teammates. We actually got a few yards on the play, but that did not matter to Coach Selfe. He called a timeout and personally called me to the sidelines. I went there like a humbled dog with my tail tucked between my legs. After a tirade of "Gosh dandies" and "Bullfrogs," his final words to me as I left for the huddle were, “Henley, if you don’t score on this play it’s a long walk back to Emory.” Needless to say, I scored a touchdown because I was afraid not to score. In my office I have a picture of Coach Selfe hanging on the wall so all students, players, coaches, and faculty who enter may see the person I most respect, honor, and call my friend. If I can be only half the coach he was I will be eternally grateful. Under his picture are the words Coach Selfe always stressed whether on the football field or on the baseball diamond, “Trust in your teammates, trust in yourself.” It is indeed an honor to share my personal experiences about a special man who was so highly respected in the Emory and Henry family. I am sure if Coach Selfe knew that I bragged on him or shared a story that highlighted his outstanding character, he would give me that look he always gave and say, “Gosh Dandy-Bullfrog, Henley!” Phillip
Henley I coached against Fred in baseball and football--he always conducted himself with class and had his team do the same—one time in baseball he had a left fielder that misjudged a fly ball and hit him in the nose. Nothing unusual there but then I saw how Fred handled the kid and the situation. It just struck me the concern he had for the kid. I hope I can convey some of the values he had and others can also see that. Jeff
Stickley I
know of no one, outside Fred's immediate family, that was real close
to him or knew him that well. Fred was always busy tending to others
and did not socialize. I think that I knew Fred as well as anyone
on the great football teams of the late 1960's but not to the degree
of knowing him emotionally. He loved his wife and daughter deeply
and took his duty as husband and father very seriously. I started
my college career at VMI and when I showed up at Emory, Fred treated
me as an equal and as a friend. It took one practice to know who
was the leader of that gang. I was glad to also play on the offensive
line. That way I did not have to go directly against him. Fred was
naturally strong and I had to gain my strength in the weight room.
He may have been toooo much!
The Emory coaches were underpaid and we, Fred and I, made a trip to President Finch's Office to offer our opinions on what should be done. President Finch was not receptive but Fred made one hell of a case. I was impressed with his intelligence and his ability to look you dead in the face and articulate what was on his mind. Not long after our visit with the President, Coach Ramsey, was offered an assistant's job at Va. Tech under Coach Claiborne. Fred and I received a message to come to Ram's Office where we were told of the offer. Coach asked us what we thought and naturally we were disappointed. Our message was, selfishly, we wanted him to stay but we knew that he would do well at Tech. Fred had completed his last season but I had one more to go. Man, did I miss Coach Ramsey, but I think I missed Fred more. Fred's senior season, my junior year, we had one high powered offense and some great defensive players. The offense compiled some great stats and I can not remember all the numbers. I just know they are astonishing. Something like an average of 550 yards per game. As I recall in one or more games we ran over 100 plays on offense. One reason for all the offense was that we always went on the first sound. To this day, I do not know why other teams did not pick up on this and get the jump on our offense. At practice one day we were running plays against a live defense and our team mates on defense knew we would go on the first sound, giving them a decided advantage. After a few plays I asked our quarterback to change the snap count and I think out of habit he kept going on the first sound. I came back to the huddle and got in the QB's face and demanded that the damn snap count be changed. After all, it was the offensive line protecting his ass. After a bit of a "spittin" contest the QB decided if I wasn't leaving the field, he would. It was Fred who stepped up and brought calm to the storm. The rest of us had that type of respect for Fred. Fred did not lead by talk, he lead by example, a person of deep character. One who would have made a great head coach, at any level, but he was not a political man. Fred was simply a man's man, devoted to helping others and a super mentor to those young men who played for him. Our son, Travis, was fortunate to have played at the University of Virginia and had a great career. Travis played for some good people. The one thing that would have added to his career would have been to have played under the guidance of Fred Selfe. Man, I don't know if I grieved at Fred's passing but I can tell you it has caught up with me as I contributed this note. Godspeed, Superman! Thanks
for the opportunity to contribute. As
a former football player and student under the watchful but caring
eyes of Coach Fred Selfe, I must say that the positive influence
that he instilled in me many years ago is still prevalent in my
everyday life. There are so many stories that rush to my head when
Coach Selfe is mentioned. The sheer awe of watching him tear his
baseball hat from brim to rear after a teammate's fumble; his un-bendable
confidence and positive outlook at a halftime meeting after we had
played so poorly (very rare); the proud look in his eye and the
pat on my back as he said, “That's the way to get after it,
Mr. Collins!'’
All of these memories come down to one thing for me; Coach Selfe made me want to be the best that I could be. In a fatherly way, I never wanted to let him down. However, I did just that, one time. On a warm, early September afternoon, me and a couple of teammates were sitting around our dorm room innocently discussing the new school year and the greatly anticipated arrival of the new, female students to campus. In an effort to meet and greet our new Wasper thespians, a couple of my friends (names withheld) had a brilliant idea of having a little party in our dorm room as a welcome for the freshman throng. Without much thought, supplies were gathered and flyers posted. In less than six hours, not only our room, but the entire upper floor of our Stuart Hall "Township" was overflowing with old friends and new acquaintances. And of course, the "liquid supplies" that were brought in had caused the tiny gathering to get a little loud. The next day, word got back to us we had been found out and our names turned in to campus authorities. Since the entire football team was there, the situation looked grim. To make it worse, since it started in my room, I was listed as a "ring leader." The thought of my parents finding out was extremely troubling, but when I thought I might have to face Coach Selfe, I became physically sick at my stomach. I told myself “maybe he doesn't know yet” when we walked onto the practice field the following day. As I made my way onto the field, feeling like a convicted felon, I spotted him removing equipment from the storage shed. Unfortunately, I had to go right by that shed to get to my starting post for the pre-practice run. I put on my helmet thinking somehow it might make me invisible. As I got closer to the storage shed, I carefully glanced over in his direction to find him staring right through me. I went from a walk to a jog. Suddenly, I felt a steel clamp on my shoulder that halted my progress mid-stride. I turned to find Coach Selfe peering over his tinted glasses. He asked in a voice I didn’t recognize, "Is what I heard about you true?" His grip got tighter and my legs went limp. I could barely speak, but managed to utter, "What . . . what do you mean?" He simply repeated his original question. So help me, I couldn't answer him. I just stood there in silence feeling small. I felt more ashamed and upset with myself than I’d ever been. I could see in his face I had let him down and that made me feel about as low as I could. He shook me back and forth a few times and said "You’re better than that, Mr. Collins—make it right." He then let me go and turned to get back to work. I realized later he was not concerned I let him down—what he cared about was that I let myself down. After that, I worked harder to do better in football and as a student; I wanted to be the best I could be. I did not want to let anyone down, especially myself. His care and concern made all the difference in how I have lived my life since. Joe-Joe Collins E&H '89 The
biggest impact that Coach Selfe made on my life is what he never
said. I didn’t have a close, personal relationship with him.
We never had a conversation that was personal. The extent of our
relationship was as a player-coach and as a student-professor. But,
the things he never said to me and how he carried himself influences
me today.
I am not going to dwell on the characteristics that made Coach Selfe who he was as a person. Others have already said these things. I will, however talk about a couple of incidents that illustrate the qualities that we all knew he had. In baseball, we mostly played doubleheaders. One day we were playing Eastern Mennonite and before the game I was talking to one of their players. This player knew we had a good football team and said he was thinking about transferring so he could play for us. I mentioned the football team had a high standard to live up to. It just so happened this guy pitched the first game of the doubleheader. He was very animated on the mound—cursing, throwing things around and mouthing to other players—not good baseball etiquette. We won the game, but his antics did not sit well with me. At the end of the second game, I told my teammates—some of them football players too—to get behind me in the line as we shook hands with the other team. When I got to the pitcher, I shook his hand and asked, “Are you still planning to transfer here to play football?” He said, "Yes." I told him "Don’t! We don’t need a__holes like you on our team." I kept shaking hands and looked back to see a pushing and shoving match had broken out. The next day at our team meeting before practice Coach Selfe said, "I don’t know what was said yesterday or who said it"—silence hung in the air—"but I agree . . . ." Coach Selfe never said anything directly to me about that incident, but what he showed me was that Emory is a family . . . that we will take care of that family, and we will do what is right for that family. By not reprimanding me, he showed faith and trust that I would do what was best for the family we call Emory and Henry. Another incident occurred in my last football game. We were playing Maryville. The game was in the second half, and we were winning easily. Coach Selfe asked me if I wanted to go back in the game. I said, “No. I’m finished.” Coach Selfe replied, “Thanks Rod.” I doubt if he knew how much that simple statement meant to me. In this moment that lasted all of 10 seconds, he allowed me to make the decision whether I wanted to play, and gave me a heart felt appreciation of thanks for all the hard work and effort I had given. Coach Selfe’s actions and demeanor said more than any words he could say. I hate to use a cliché, but he was a man’s man. He was the first coach I ever had that treated me like a man. He gave us (the players) freedom to play and make decisions about strategy as long as it was in the framework of the team concept. Coach Selfe could always give you the “look” and you knew exactly what it meant. The “look” could range from disgust, disappointment to that’s how you play the game and I’m proud of you. It is that look of “I’m proud of you “ that I received in my last football game which is embedded in my mind, and I know that when Coach Selfe met his God he received that same “look.” Rodney
D. Beville Winter
at Emory was always a beautiful time of year. Cold, quite cold,
but a wonderful, many times white, clean, clear and quiet time.
I loved winter at Emory for many reasons. Going out for a walk or
jog in the cool, clean air, sledding on the golf course with those
infamous cafeteria trays, or sitting at the duck pond enjoying the
snow and watching “Luther,” one of the many swans that
lived on the E&H campus over the years.
But winter was very special because it was basketball season! I have a great passion for athletics but the game of basketball held my deepest passion since the age of five. Most of my college life rallied around my studies and preparing for and playing for the E&H women’s basketball team. And Coach Selfe was watching every step of the way. Coach Selfe was a man of strong, yet compassionate character. When I first met him I could feel his mental and emotional strength, his passion for athletics, his love for education, but mostly, he showed me right from the beginning, his ability to teach. And I don’t mean just classroom teaching, but teaching by actions, by his words, and just by his mere presence. He was a big and strong man physically, but in my eyes and my heart he was even bigger. He would look into my eyes with great attention and father-like care. It would make me want to do well in the classroom and to perform at my highest peak on the court. He had that effect on many of us…his football players, his baseball players, and many other Physical Education majors. It was important to all of us to please him. It was really important to me to make him proud. During my sophomore year I would see Coach Selfe around even more, either at the King Gym or in the classroom. He would always say, “Hello” or place his hand on my shoulder until one day it was like we had become closer and he made me feel like his own daughter. That day I earned the nickname from him and him only, “Munchkin.” It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. He thought enough of me to nickname me. And now, my personal expectations of myself rose even higher. Coach Selfe could do that though – make you expect more of yourself. It gave me more motivation to get better grades, work harder on the basketball court and be a better person. I expect he did that to many of us at E&H that had the privilege of knowing him. Enhancing my education and playing basketball at E&H was an absolute joy! Being a “Munchkin” of only five feet no one ever believed that I would play college basketball anywhere. E&H believed in me when no one else did, and so did Coach Selfe. He didn’t believe in the things you couldn’t do. He believed in making the best of what you could do and enhancing the positive qualities that you possess, making goals and playing your hardest to achieve those goals. Before every home game Coach Selfe would always be around. He was always at every home game and he would always look me in the eyes before the game, tell me to play hard and smart, and hug me. It was like hugging your favorite teddy bear that made you feel safe and warm, but this teddy bear could talk and offer great wisdom as well. He was like my own father away from home. I was very fortunate – I had a second dad. One Friday night we were to play our biggest rival–Roanoke College. We lived for that game! The game with Roanoke went as usual—it was close and very physical. Every second was crucial. I remember diving for a loose ball to save it from going out of bounds and slid right into Coach Selfe. He saved me from hitting my head on his chair, picked me up like a wet rag, looked me in the eye and said, “Good hustle, Munchkin! Get back out there!” His eyes were stern and motivated, and with that, so was I. We won that game. Over the years I would visit E&H and see professors, coaches and friends. I would always see Coach Selfe, always catch up on how and what each of us was doing. He always looked the same—strong, happy, young, and still enthusiastic about athletics and teaching. Last year at a home women’s basketball game I found out Coach Selfe was in the hospital fighting for his life. I felt scared because I knew I had to go and see him the next morning. I hesitated fearing I would see him weak and frail, but I walked in to find him sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, talking to his brother. Although he had an oxygen tube attached he was still the same strong, determined coach and teacher I remembered. I wanted so badly to run over there and hug him. He must have sensed that because he smiled and said, “I would hug you Munchkin, but they won’t allow me to.” I just nodded my head so he knew that I understood, but what he didn’t know was that he did hug me, just then, with his kind eyes and his words. We caught up with each other and in all that time he never mentioned cancer, or how he was feeling and I never asked. This was the great man I knew who never said a curse word or a negative word about anything or anyone, and never showed any emotional downs since the day I met him. He wasn’t about to do it then. As I was departing I turned, looked at him and as I welled up inside I told him, “You know, you were always my dad away from home, and you still are.” He looked down at his feet, nodded his head and with great respect and care softly said, “I know . . . and I appreciate that.” I looked at him, and remembering that basketball game many years before I told him, “You get back in there.” He smiled his meaningful, stern smile. He responded, just as I knew he would, “I am going to beat this.” Although Coach Selfe passed away some months later the impact that he has had on students, faculty, athletes, the community and Emory and Henry College itself is immense. This great man was devoted to his family, his career, and all the people of Emory and Henry College. I feel privileged to have known such a man. He is an inspiration and the epitome of a role model. For those of you that never met nor knew Coach Selfe, I hope this story will help give you an idea of the kind of man he was. For those of you that played for Coach Selfe, I admire you, and all that you must have learned. For those of us that did know Coach Selfe, I share the challenge with you of passing on the lessons that we learned from this man to our mediocre world. Lessons learned outside the classroom. Can we go through one day without saying a curse word? Can we pick up a broom and help the custodian sweep the building? Can we motivate a young person to achieve goals with a positive impact, rather than a negative one? Can we respect another without passing any type of judgment? There are eyes watching us, young and old. Coach Selfe always seemed aware of the impact his actions and words could have on folks. He was graceful, meaningful, and passionate with his words. And when Coach Selfe was silent, he was graceful, meaningful and passionate. He was a teacher and a great one, in and out of the classroom to all of us. Bronwyn Reynolds Fred
and Becky have been wonderful influences on my life. I hope that
is. How can anyone dare to begin to write how much one person has
influenced his/her life? Fred and Becky Selfe are two people who
both touch(ed) so many lives that it seems to astound people who
have not had such influences. It almost seems that you only see
stories like these on sappy television shows. But there are some
things that happen "only in Emory," as my mother and I
say.
The first stories I can remember about Fred Selfe have to do with him helping my father. My parents owned land in Emory; my father a contractor and a bit of a farmer. Coach Selfe and Mrs. Selfe have just always been a part of our lives. Becky was a teacher and coach of mine at Patrick Henry High School. Fred, as everyone knows, was a teacher and coach at Emory and Henry College. My senior year of high school we started looking at colleges. Emory was of no interest to me since I grew up just across the railroad tracks from campus. While being shown around Carson Newman College in Jefferson City, Tennessee we were surprised to run into Fred Selfe standing in the middle of the road. The E&H baseball team was there playing a game. Coach Selfe stopped, looked at us and said, ‘You’re NOT actually considering this are you, Miss Hockett?’ in that deliberate tone we all know was more of a command than a question. My mother and I thanked the folks at Carson Newman, got into our car and drove back to Emory—decision made. Just a side note that settled everything was a graduation gift from the Selfe's straight from the E&H bookstore…a set of sweats with Emory & Henry athletics written on them! Coach Selfe helped my father build houses, working during the summers and breaks from teaching. He didn't mind coming to the hay field or strawberry patch or wherever the work was to be done. He could be found nailing nails on top of a roof or hanging drywall and everything in between. He was known to have football players who had to attend summer school work construction, too! As the years went on, he was found working on the Emory Project, which was kind of like Habitat for Humanity. He would spend time building houses or remodeling houses for those who couldn't afford to pay to have it done. There are a couple of stories more about him being so generous to my family. Dad came up with plans to build a playground for my young son, Devin, but, unfortunately, his health declined before he could build it. The following spring, Coach Selfe came to me and told me Dad had explained the whole plan and they’d been ready to build it, but time didn't allow before Dad died. Later on that summer Fred just showed up one day at our house near Roanoke. He and Becky pulled up all smiles with a trailer loaded down with building materials. Fred pulled it all off the trailer and began the long process of setting it up in the yard. When he finished, he included a little something extra—a wooden plaque with my son's name engraved on it. A few weeks later, he and Becky dropped in again. He’d decided there was a better place in the yard to set the playground and driven all that way just to move it. Fred Selfe collected the material, built the playground and came back to position it correctly because of an unspoken duty to my Dad. I guess most people knew of Coach Selfe on the football or baseball field. I worked as a student athletic trainer for three years while at E&H. We thought we were doing the work, but always under the watchful eye of Coach Selfe, especially when Dr. Hutson wasn't along. (He was an EMT during those years, I believe.) He was well known for pulling off his hat or headphones and yelling, "Bullfrog!" or "Gosh Dandy!" What a lot of folks might not have heard were the apologies the female athletic trainers received after the games…somehow he was afraid he'd offended us in some way….which could never have happened. We can all remember the couple of teams he hated losing to, more than others! Then he'd go sit with them for a few minutes, which immediately stopped any chanting that was going on. I believe there were times, too, when he'd drive other sports teams to their games, too…teams he wasn't directly involved with coaching. I know he brought me on my first trip to Franklin County, up "Shootin' Creek," one trip I don't think I'll ever forget! Fred Selfe was a devoted family man, too. It didn't seem that he and Becky ever had any time to spend together due to both of their coaching responsibilities. But there was no doubt how much she and their daughter, Paige, meant to him. I always saw him as the backbone, that sturdy rock that every family must have. The only time I ever saw him any differently was with those grandchildren. They seem to be able to turn even the toughest men to mush!
During
my four years as a student athlete at Emory & Henry, I was,
like so many others before and after me, fortunate enough to be
influenced by Coach Fred Selfe. From his physical appearance to
his understanding, caring voice, being in the presence of Coach
Selfe was to be in the company of someone special, of someone graced
with so many positive attributes.
Though there are several stories I could tell about my knowing Coach Selfe, one in particular my senior year stands out as a guiding lesson, his living wisdom. The
story: Football players at E&H love to “go live.”
It’s game-time situation, with full contact until the whistle
blows. As a cornerback, I was serving as the right “end rusher”
on the goal line defense. This particular drill was for the defense
to work on blocking extra points and field goals. The kicker was
unavailable at the time, so Coach Selfe stood in as the kicker.
I recall making a statement along the lines of “Watch out
Coach Selfe, we’re going live.” His response was something
like, “Yes, you better,” with that well-known grin on
his face. The
lesson: I have told that story many times to fellow students and
the new friends I have made since graduating from E&H. I always
told the story in a way that revealed Coach Selfe’s physical
power and size. How he could have easily leveled me with another
chuck. Until recently, I did not realize I was missing the point.
Steve
Munsey My experience with Coach Selfe has always been a special one. He was a man of many great character traits, but one example of his character can be exemplified in the story that follows.
We were just
about ready to leave for Christmas break in December 1982, when
I saw something completely out of the ordinary. Here comes Coach
Selfe and Bruce Hatch up the Hillman dorm steps. It seemed very
strange to see Coach Selfe because the coaches normally were never
around the dorms, especially this time of year. When he stopped
at my door, I had a strange feeling that something was just not
right. What happened in the next few moments changed my life forever,
and Coach Selfe was a very important messenger. You see, Coach Selfe
was there to tell me that my dad had passed away.
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©2004, Fred Selfe. Site by Atlantic Webworks.